Save The Last Dance For Me
by ottered
Summary: Seven years after graduation, Quinn is a journalist in Paris, France. When she is asked to review a musical, she is shocked to see a familiar name in the credits for the show. Is this Quinn's second chance at a love that slipped away?
1. Prologue

~Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so forgive me if it isn't perfect. I'm going to begin by posting the prologue and the first chapter, and if anyone is interested, I will continue posting from there. Enjoy, and please review! Thank you!~

**Year 2012, Lima, Ohio.**

Quinn looked down into her beautiful brown eyes and gave her a weak smile. She was trying her best to seem like she was happy for Rachel, but that's not easy when you're holding back tears. NYADA was a great school, and Quinn knew that Rachel's dreams would all come true for her eventually. No one in their right mind would ever deny Rachel Berry her dream, she was going to be a Broadway star if it killed her. A muffled announcement came on overhead and interrupted Quinn's flow of thought.

"Now boarding train 427A passengers to New York City, Grand Central Station"

_Just give me another minute. One more minute, that's all I ask. _Quinn thought, but she realized no matter how much longer she had, be it days or weeks or months, it would be just as hard to let Rachel go. _No. This is it._ She thought. _If I don't tell her now, I won't ever get another chance. _Quinn's heart was starting to race and she braced herself to say the words that had been on the tip of her tongue for years.

"Rachel, I—" but she choked on them. Her words failed her and Rachel stood there staring, waiting to hear them. But they didn't come.

"— I'm going to miss you." Was what she said. She was already kicking herself internally. _Stupid, weak, idiot. Why can't I just tell her? _Rachel smiled sadly, and put her hand gently on Quinn's arm.

"I'll miss you too Quinn. So much... I just know you'll have a great time at Yale." Rachel replied. Any other day of the year, Quinn would have agreed with her. Yale was a great school, and Quinn was sure there were plenty of opportunities for her there. But in that moment, Quinn hated Yale. She hated NYADA too. She hated everything that was taking Rachel away from her. After a pause that seemed to drag on forever, Rachel said "I have to go now. I don't want to miss my train."

Quinn panicked. She looked to the ground and felt Rachel's hand leave her arm. _You can't leave. I need you. I love you, Rachel. I need you to stay, please don't leave me. I can't say goodbye forever, not to you. _She thought. She stood for a moment and let her emotions engulf her like wildfire. Rachel was slipping away, and there was nothing she could do about it. Eyes fixed on the ground, she desperately prayed for the train to break down and stay, stuck in the station. But she heard a whistle, and when she looked up, the wheels were starting to turn. Eyes wide with terror, she looked around, trying to find her home in those familiar brown eyes, but they weren't there. Rachel was on the train, and it was gaining speed.

"No." She said quietly, and her eyes leapt back and forth across the moving train frantically, searching for Rachel. "Please!" She yelled, her voice breaking in a sob. She tried to run toward the train, but her legs wouldn't move. Instead, she stood rooted in place, tears blurring her vision, her whole body trembling with every sob. Her heart was breaking, and she could feel it.

"Please..."


	2. Chapter 1

**Year 2018, Paris, France.**

Quinn was happy. Or so was the image she projected of herself. She had a Liberal Arts degree from an Ivy League university, from which she graduated with honors. She had friends. Not good friends, but the kind of friends you call up to go out for drinks every couple of weeks and make small talk. Best of all, she had a boyfriend. Émile Dupont was a picture of perfection; a striking face with sharp features, and a smile that could break any woman's heart. His face isn't what Quinn liked about him, though. She was dating him because he was a safe choice, for her feelings and for the approval of her parents. She knew he wasn't the kind of person she could fall in love with, which meant that no matter how hard he tried, he could never break her heart. Quinn had only felt what that was like once before, and she knew it was something she never wanted to feel again. So for now, with Émile by her side posing as the love of her life, Quinn's heart was safe. Being with Émile also meant that she was supported financially, his father had offered him a position at his company as a market researcher. So, with her degree, her mediocre friends, and her successful boyfriend, Quinn was everything her parents had ever wanted her to be.

Of course, being with Émile also meant that she would have to move to Paris when they both graduated from Yale. Paris was Émile's hometown, and it was over four thousand miles away from Lima, Ohio. That's four thousand miles between Quinn and all of the memories she'd spent years trying to erase. Quinn had no problem with this. The further away from Lima she could get, the better.

Sometimes it was harder than others to banish her old feelings and live this new life. Quinn remembered Rachel every day, even though there were seven years between them now. A lot of the time, her heart ached to hear the sound of Rachel's voice. She often wondered what Rachel would say if Quinn called her now, out of the blue, and tried to rekindle their friendship. But Quinn would never do that. She would never put herself through what she felt that day at the train station again.

_I have a good life here._ She thought. _I am happy. _She was on her way back to work now, taking public transit, because she thought owning a car in Paris is virtually pointless. Besides, driving was hard for her after her accident senior year. Her crash had made it almost impossible for Quinn to get behind the wheel of a car without having a panic attack. So, she took the bus.

Quinn had landed herself an internship at The Connexion, an english language newspaper company. She worked in the Arts & Entertainment department, usually running errands for her superiors, like the coffee she was bringing back to her boss right now. On rare occasions, they would throw her a bone and she'd get to cover a story of her own. Nothing big, usually small reviews of albums by no-name local bands. Her boss, Maude Plaisance, was the editor for the Arts & Entertainment section. Maude was the kind of person who could only be described as intense. Most of the employees at The Connexion were terrified of her, but, for some reason, she'd taken a liking to Quinn.

"Morning, Mrs. Plaisance!" Quinn said cheerfully as she entered Maude's office and placed a large coffee on her desk.

"Miss Fabray..." Maude said without looking up from the page she was reading. It was an article someone had written, and Quinn could see dozens of red corrections marking the page. _Won't settle for anything less than perfection._Quinn thought to herself. Maude's office was filled with stacks of papers and books. A plaque on the wall commemorated one of her career's many achievements. This woman was the definition of success, and she was everything Quinn one day hoped to be. Quinn stood waiting for Maude to look up from her work and finish what she was saying.

"Miss Fabray, I need you to do a small job for me next week." Quinn smiled excitedly. She loved writing and taking photos for the paper. Her mind started flipping through all the possibilities of what this job could be. Another album review maybe, or an art exhibit exposé.

"One of our writers informed me this morning that he has taken a job at another company, the traitor... So, I am asking you to complete one of his assignments. I haven't decided which one yet, but I'll let you know once I get the chance to arrange things. Are you prepared to take on such a task, Miss Fabray?"

"Of course I am, Mrs. Plaisance, I am so grateful you're giving me this chance!" Quinn beamed. She was started to get very excited. This wasn't just a little job from the leftover pile, this was a real story. Her mind wandered over all the possibilities. _Rachel would be so proud of me._Quinn thought. She often thought similar things, whether or not Rachel would like a song Quinn heard on the radio, or if she would approve of an outfit she chose, or if she would be impressed with a meal she cooked. Often when they came up, she banished them immediately from her head, not wanting to linger on sad thoughts of her past, and what could have been. But now, she let herself remember. She thought she'd earned that much... A real story! She could barely contain her excitement.

"Thank you, Mrs. Plaisance, I promise I won't let you down." Quinn said as she turned to leave Maude's office.

"Oh, and, Miss Fabray..." Maude started with a smirk. "You do realize, I hope, that Bertrand resigning means there's an opening for a writing position..." Quinn's heart stopped. "... Let's just say, if you manage to impress me with this story, I might be willing to consider keeping you on the job permanently."

Quinn could hardly believe what she was hearing. A permanent writing position at The Connexion. She was definitely going to be celebrating tonight.

"You can leave now, Miss Fabray." Said Maude teasingly.

"Oh... Of course, Thank you Maude... I mean, Mrs. Plaisance. Thank you." Quinn stuttered, and fumbled her way out of the room. She could hear Maude laughing quietly behind her as she left.

For the next few days, Quinn waited patiently for Maude to give her the assignment. She was starting to feel like Maude was purposefully stalling as long as possible to stretch out Quinn's anticipation. She had given up hope for the day, and was starting to pack up her things to leave when Maude peeked her head out of the door of her office.

"Miss Fabray, please see me in my office before you leave today." She said, before she ducked her head back in and out of sight. Quinn smiled and pulled out her phone to text Émile and tell him she might be a bit late for their dinner date. He had told her he had big news for her. After she sent her text, she collected her things, and speed walked to Maude's office.

Maude was sitting at her desk, surrounded by newspaper clippings and sheets of paper as usual. It took her a moment to look up from her work and acknowledge Quinn's presence. When she did, she smiled, and motioned for Quinn to have a seat in the chair opposite her desk. Quinn did as told, her anticipation doing flips in her stomach.

"So, Miss Fabray. I'm sure you've noticed I've been keeping you waiting on this assignment. I've been trying to decide if you are, in fact, ready for such a task... Lucky for you, I've come to the decision that you are. So, here's your assignment... Write this down."

Quinn scrambled to grab a pen from her bag and her notepad. She flipped to the first empty page and scribbled the date. Then she looked up and waited for the news that would make her year.

"Next friday, you are going to go to The Châtelet and attend the Paris opening of the Broadway musical, _The Last Dance_. You are going to sit through the performance and write down everything that crosses your mind about the show. I specifically want you to interview the two leads... They've built up quite the buzz around their off-set romance and I want to cash in on that. After the show, you are going to go home and write a two page review, which you will hand in to me by noon on Monday at the latest." Maude paused to let the news sink in. Quinn was in shock. She was going to review a Broadway musical. She couldn't believe it.

"Here I have a folder containing a poster advertising the show, pages with stats on how the play did in New York, a playbill from the show, and an article we published previously about how thrilled the public was to see this musical come to Paris. It also contains an all-access backstage press pass. This folder is your child. If you're smart, you can turn this into a great project..." Maude handed the folder to Quinn. On the front of the folder was a label that said _Quinn Fabray's Big Break_. That's exactly what this was, and Quinn knew it.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Plaisance. I never imagined this kind of opportunity would come my way... Thank you. I won't fail you." Quinn said enthusiastically. Maude looked pleased at this.

"You'd better not," She warned. "Or it'll cost you. Now get out of here, I have work to do."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Quinn still couldn't keep the smile off her face when she arrived at the restaurant where she was supposed to meet Émile. She kept daydreaming about her future as a renowned journalist who interviewed superstars and whose words were praised around the world. It was a dream come true for her to have this opportunity.

She entered the restaurant and looked around, trying to scope out Émile. She spotted him sitting at the far end of the room, at a small table, looking at a menu. She weaved her way through the tables and sat down across from him. He looked up when he heard her sit and smiled his most loving smile.

"Ahh, ma belle, salut." He said and stood up, leaning over the table to kiss her cheek. "I have ordered drinks already, I hope you do not mind. Sauvignon blanc for you, my love." He stared at her with adoration. Quinn couldn't help but feel awkward when he did romantic things like that for her, which was basically all the time. She knew he was in love with her, and sometimes she felt guilty for letting him feel that way when she knew what they had could never be true love for her. This was companionship to Quinn. There was no real passion in this relationship, but with time and practise, she'd learned how to fake it.

"Thank you, Émile. My favourite." She smiled. This was a lie. She had no particular preference in wine, if anything she preferred a cocktail. But if she knew anything about Émile, it was that he loved to be appreciated. Quinn did her best to appreciate everything he did, because admittedly, he did a lot for her. He took her out for dates regularly, bought her flowers and gifts, supported her financially while she was in her internship. If she couldn't be in love with him, she was at least going to be grateful for all of this. She looked down at her menu and began to look through her options.

A waitress approached their table with two glasses of wine, one white and one red, and set them down in front of them.

"Bonjour les amoureux, what would you two like to eat tonight?" Said their waitress enthusiastically. Quinn looked up at her and smiled.

"I'll have the boeuf bourgignon, please." She said. The waitress was gorgeous. She had jet black hair with big blue eyes, and adorable little dimples on her cheeks. Quinn had to stop herself from staring. Émile didn't know about Quinn's sexuality. As far as he knew, she was completely straight. There were a lot of things about Quinn that Émile didn't know.

"Wonderful. And for the gentleman?" The waitress turned to Émile, who requested coq au vin. Quinn's eyes wandered back to the waitress. She found her name tag. _Mélanie. Beautiful name. _Quinn thought. Quinn's eyes looked her up and down. She had a perfect figure. Quinn watched her walk across the restaurant to put their order in with the chef. Those legs...

"Quinn... Quinn, hello..." Émile said. She was startled.

"Wh-what? Oh. Sorry. Yes, Émile?"

"I was just beginning to tell you my big news. Are you paying attention now?" He teased.

"Yes, I'm listening. Tell me your news."

"Well, it very much concerns you, actually... My father has asked me to travel to London for two weeks on business. It would be entirely paid for by the company. I must leave in two days."

"Oh, Émile! That's so exciting! You're going to have so much fun."

"Yes, well, I was hoping that you would come too. He has offered to pay for you to come as well. How would you like that?"

Quinn frowned. Obviously this idea excited Émile very much, he loved spending time with her. But the assignment for The Connexion...

"Émile, I can't come to London... I'm so sorry. Maude asked me to write about the premiere of a play next week. It's something I just can't pass up. This is my chance at getting a permanent position with the company. I'm really sorry, it's just such inconvenient timing..." She feigned regret for Émile's benefit, but really she was glad to hear that she would have the apartment to herself for a couple weeks. Émile's constant wooing made her uncomfortable sometimes.

"Ahh, yes, I understand. I was very much looking forward to departing with you. However, I am certainly glad you have been given such an opportunity! Congratulations, my darling!" He snapped his fingers playfully at the waitress across the restaurant. "Mademoiselle! Two more glasses, s'il vous plait!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and grinned at him. He really was a sweet man. She did feel bad sometimes for not being able to love him the way he wanted her to. He deserved to be loved like that, but she couldn't. Émile could never be enough for Quinn's love, because he wasn't _her_.

The waitress came to the table with two more glasses of wine and smiled at Quinn.

"Are we celebrating something tonight, Miss?" She asked. Quinn looked down at the table. Émile laughed and said,

"Yes, we are indeed. My girlfriend is stunningly beautiful, is she not? I think that's cause enough to celebrate!" The flattery made Quinn feel uncomfortable, but no where near as much as what happened next.

"She certainly is..." Said the waitress. "Breathtaking."

_Oh my God. _Quinn thought. _She's trying to flirt with me. _The waitress gave Quinn a lingering look which she broke with a small laugh.

"Your food is on its way." She chimed, and turned on her heel. Quinn could feel her face getting hot. She didn't want to look up at Émile, but she thought that if she didn't, he would suspect something. When she looked up, he appeared blissfully oblivious to everything that had just happened.

"So, ma Chère, tell me more about this exciting opportunity. I want to hear every tiny detail." Quinn sighed, relieved, and tried to collect herself.

"Well... Maude asked me to go to the Paris premiere of a Broadway musical at the Châtelet on Friday. I have to attend the show and interview the two leads. After, I'm to write a review to be published in the paper." Quinn said, beaming with pride. This really was something to be proud of, after all. Maude wouldn't pick just anybody to take on this job.

"Mais, vraiment! You are reviewing a musical! Unbelievable! What is it called? What is it about? Oh, I wish I could come with you." Émile almost shouted, with real enthusiasm. It was amazing how much he cared for Quinn, how genuine his feelings for her were, when hers were... Well, shallow.

"I forget what it's called... Something about dancing... and I have no idea what it's about. But apparently people are really excited about it, there's a lot of hype around it. Maude told me the two leads I'm interviewing are romantically involved." Quinn replied.

"Ahh, Chérie, I can tell you right now that is nothing but false stories. I will bet you twenty euros their romance is just for show. That is always the case." Émile said. _Sounds familiar_. Quinn thought, and mentally cursed herself. Émile didn't deserve that.

"I have no idea if it's true or not... And frankly I don't really care, as long as they give me something to work with... Honestly, though, I just can't remember the name of the play... Here, I think I have the playbill in my bag somewhere..." Quinn reached into her bag just as the waitress came back carrying their dishes. She stopped rummaging and looked at the waitress again. She was staring right at her, giving her a very seductive look. Quinn froze. _What does she think she's doing? _She thought. _Émile is going to flip._

But Émile was happily starting his meal, not looking up from his plate. With her boyfriend distracted, Quinn let her eyes linger on the waitress. She even gave her a little smirk of recognition, which turned out to be exactly what the waitress was waiting for. With her eyes on Émile to make sure he wasn't paying attention, the waitress reached out to Quinn's hand on the table. Pretending to give her a friendly pat, she slid a small, folded piece of paper into Quinn's hand. Quinn held her breath and watched Émile for any sign of confusion, but he didn't look up.

"Enjoy your date." The waitress smirked, and left them alone at the table. Quinn, still holding her breath, slowly lowered her hand underneath the table. She unfolded the paper, which read "_My name is Mélanie. Call me._" With a phone number scribbled underneath. Quinn choked on her breath. Émile looked up at her, concerned.

"Ça va?" He asked, and Quinn waved his worry away and tried to stay calm. She slipped the note into the pocket of her cardigan. The idea of an affair made Quinn sick to her stomach. Even though she wasn't truly in love with Émile, her conscience would never let her be unfaithful to him. Trying to eject the unwanted thoughts from her head, she went back to digging through her bag for the playbill. She found it in the folder Maude gave her and pulled it out.

"_The Last Dance_." Quinn said. "That's what it's called." She said. Émile nodded, interested. Quinn paused to take a bite of her delicious food, and a sip of wine.

"Sounds a bit cheesy to me." She added, and Émile laughed. "And I will be interviewing..." She flipped through the pages, trying to find the list of players.

"... Anthony Giovanni, and—" She stopped suddenly, mouth agape, unable to speak. Émile looked concerned.

"Quinn, darling, what is it?" He asked.

Quinn stared at the page in front of her in shock. She never thought this would happen, especially not here, where an entire ocean separated her from her past. She had spent the past seven years pushing away her feelings, using boyfriends and distance to forge a new life for herself, one devoid of unrequited love. But in a second, at the sight of a name, they all came flooding back like a tidal wave, and after all this time Quinn feared she'd forgotten how to swim. Émile was still asking her what was wrong, but she couldn't find the words to give him a real answer. So instead, she just said the name of the one person she could never really forget, despite how hard she tried, and the name that was written in the playbill she was holding in front of her;

"Rachel Berry".


	4. Chapter 3

****~Author's Note: First of all, thank you all so much for the reviews, you're all so sweet and I really appreciate it. Second, Sorry for the late update, I've been super distracted and busy lately, so thank you again for your patience. Here's chapter 3, Enjoy!~

**Chapter 3**

Quinn spent most of the remainder of their date explaining to Émile just who Rachel was, and why her name elicited such a strong reaction from her. Of course, she carefully avoided the part about being unconditionally in love with her, until the end of time. Overall, Émile seemed content with the explanation Quinn gave; they were best friends in high school and she had never expected to see Rachel again after graduation, because they had a falling out of some sort. Émile returned to finishing his expensive meal, and urged Quinn to do the same, but she felt terribly nauseous.

_Rachel. Coming here, where I live. I am going to see Rachel again._She could barely even form full thoughts anymore. Her mind had seemingly imploded, now completely empty of anything other than Rachel Berry. Eventually, her blind stupor became a state of full-blown panic. The image of her 18 year old self, sobbing on the floor of the train station came into view. Quinn's heart ached at the thought of the train pulling away from the platform and out of the station, carrying with it the only person she ever let herself care about.

Émile was finished his meal, and waved the waitress over to get the bill. While she stood beside their table and waited for Émile to count out a proper tip, she stared at Quinn, eyes full of desire. But Quinn was in another world. She was remembering everything, the good and the bad, for the first time in years. It was unbearable. Overwhelming. Amazing.

The waitress thanked Émile for his generous tip, and left them alone. After a moment, Émile reached out for Quinn's hand and the two of them left the restaurant.

* * *

Late in the night, Quinn was laying in bed, unable to sleep. Émile was snoring softly next to her, so, knowing she wouldn't wake him, she got up and went to their kitchen. Her emotions were still making her stomach turn, so she poured herself a glass of water to help calm her nausea. It was dark in their apartment, but the soft moonlight from their kitchen window allowed Quinn to see. From the kitchen table, Quinn could faintly make out her reflection in the mirror hanging in their hallway. Since her youth, Quinn had never liked looking at herself. This stemmed from years of torment in the form of cruel nicknames given to her by her peers. Even now, holding eye contact with herself was one of the hardest things to do. Today, however, she stared for several minutes. Her face was hard as she stared herself down, unblinking._ I'm older now... I've changed. _She thought. _I'm not a little girl anymore. _This was certainly true. Quinn was still youthful and beautiful of course, but she definitely looked older. She wasn't small and helpless anymore, like she was when she broke down that day in the train station. _What if it was different this time?_

This thought was enough to set Quinn in motion. She got up and, dragging her chair behind her, she started toward the small hall closet. She opened the door and then stood on the chair, reaching up into the darkness above her head. She felt around with her hands until she found an old shoebox. Bringing the box back to the kitchen table, she braced herself for what she was about to see. She motioned to open the box, but hesitated. She was afraid to look.

"Just open it, you coward." She snapped at herself. She took a deep breath and pulled the lid off the box. On the top of a small pile of pages and various objects was a hospital bracelet and a picture of a small blonde girl who was smiling up at the photographer, who Quinn knew was Puck. On the back of the photo was written _Beth, August 2012. _Quinn smiled sadly. Beth was such a beautiful, happy little girl. Quinn realized a long time ago that giving her up with ultimately the best thing to do, not just for Beth, but for herself as well. There were no hard feelings there anymore. Of course she missed her sometimes, but she knew that Beth was happy, and in good hands with Shelby. So, she placed the hospital bracelet and the photo of her daughter beside the box, and continued flipping through memories of her past. In the box, she found a first place ribbon from their nationals competition, sheet music for the many performances she did with the New Directions, her senior prom picture, the yearbook of her final year at McKinley, and many other things that filled her heart with different emotions. Finally, at the bottom of the box, Quinn found what she was looking for. She pulled out a worn envelope, torn from being handled so often and taped back together around the edges. It was marked only with a shiny gold star. It was stuffed to capacity with papers and photos and memories.

Quinn sighed and closed her eyes. _I can do this. _She carefully opened the flap of the envelope and slipped her hand inside. The first thing she pulled out was a photo of Rachel from their senior year, smiling at the camera. Quinn had taken it in the dressing room while the girls were before a show choir competition. She looked so beautiful in that red dress. Next, she pulled out a letter Rachel had written to Quinn while she was in the hospital after her crash.

_Dearest Quinn,_

I know I visited you the other day, and you told me not to make a big fuss

_ about your being in the hospital, but I thought that if I was the one in the _

_ hospital I would have been very curious about what the glee club and all _

_ of my friends were doing. First of all, Mr. Schue is like a drill sergeant _

_ about nationals. Of course, I do agree with him that we should be practising_

_ and preparing in order to assure a second victory for the New Directions, _

_ but we've all been quite distracted with you in the hospital and all._

_Santana specifically asked me to mention that she misses you at Cheerios_

_practice all the time. She says it's hard to make a pyramid when you're_

_missing the peak._

_Remember that we are all thinking of you. I miss you, Quinn._

_Please get better._

_All my love,_

_Rachel Barbra Berry_

Quinn caught herself smiling as she read the last line of the letter and suddenly shook her head, wiping the smile from her face. She slammed the letter onto the table in frustration. _Why am I doing this to myself? I'm only going to end up with a broken heart again. I have to make sure this whole thing is only business._Quinn knew that wasn't possible. Even if she was able to keep her feelings in check, Rachel would probably want to rekindle some kind of friendship, even if it lasted only until she left Paris. _Fine, I'll be friends with her for a while. But I can't try to be anything more. _She resolved.

The day of the premiere, Quinn was feeling incredibly anxious. She had tried to keep herself busy, making sure she didn't have to spend too long thinking about Rachel. But in those few minutes that she was thinking of her, she was wondering; _Is she really dating her costar? If so, is she happy?_

* * *

She spent most of the day getting herself ready. Maude had told her to look her best, so she had bought a new dress and shoes to wear to the event. The dress was black silk. It went down just past her knees, and hugged her body nicely. The shoes were simple black heels. She wore her hair pinned up in a curled bun. _All black. Maybe she won't notice me... Until the interview. _It was hopeless. Either way she would have to face Rachel, and she knew that eventually she would just have to grow a pair and meet her responsibilities.

Around seven o'clock, Quinn left her apartment and made her way to the Châtelet. She didn't want to be late and miss the show, even though she was seriously considering it at this point. It only took her about twenty minutes to arrive, and the show wasn't to start until eight o'clock, so, of course she was very early. She showed her ticket at the door, and made a dash straight to the bar. Quinn knew it wasn't very professional to be drinking on the job, but she desperately needed something to calm her nerves.

"What can I get you, Miss?" asked the bartender politely.

"Um... A vodka water please. No ice." She payed the man, and once he gave her the drink, she turned to face the rest of the room. No sign of Rachel yet. Quinn let out a sigh of relief, then quickly downed her drink. She hissed as the liquor went down and put the glass back on the bar. Then, she asked the bartender where she could find a ladies room. She was planning on hiding there until the show started. _Coward. _The bartender smiled and answered her.

"There's one upstairs, through the door to the right." He said. So Quinn walked up the stairs, clutching the railing for balance. People were starting to arrive, and the hall was filling up, so she had to step around a few people to get to the bathroom. Once she got there, she was relieved to find no one else inside. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection. _You can do this. You've done it before, and you can do it again. You're Quinn Fabray._

When she left the bathroom, an attendant was announcing that the show would begin shortly, and that the audience should take their seats. Maude had gotten Quinn a ticket in the second row. When she found her seat, she took out her notebook and pen so she could start writing. Once everyone was inside and seated, and house lights dimmed. Quinn held her breath as the orchestra began to play an upbeat melody. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought it might bust out of her chest. A spotlight came up on the stage, and a man was in it. Quinn took a deep breath in relief that it wasn't her. _That must be Anthony Giovanni. _For the next few minutes, he sang a song about how in love he was with Rachel's character, and how sad he was because she would never feel that way about him. _Oh, cry me a river, Romeo. _Quinn rolled her eyes. After his song, and a brief applause from the crowd, Anthony's spotlight went dark. A slower, prettier melody started playing from the pit. A spotlight came up on the other side of the stage.

And there she was, beautiful as ever. Her hair was flowing down her back in waves, and she was staring up into the balcony, belting out her song. She was wearing a delicate white dress, decorated with lace.

"Fuck." Quinn said, breathless. The man next to her shot her a look of disapproval, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the brunette onstage. Her worries were all gone, and the knot in the pit of her stomach had miraculously vanished. She felt calm, and in awe. She was no longer nervous, and instead she was very much looking forward to the interview. She managed to pry her eyes away from Rachel only briefly, but she grinned and looked up toward the ceiling._ Thank you. _She thought, and when she looked up at Rachel again, she knew what she had to do. _This is my second chance. _


	5. Chapter 4

~Author's note: So, this one was REALLY late, and there's really no excuse, but it's here now. Enjoy. And thank you all so much for your lovely reviews. I hope I don't disappoint.~

**Chapter 4**

The rest of the show went by pretty quickly, for Quinn was very much enjoying herself. Every time Rachel spoke or sang, her heart fluttered and her smile grew wider. She felt slightly jealous every time Anthony's character was putting his moves on Rachel's character, and she closed her eyes whenever they kissed. She had to remind herself that it was only a work of fiction, and that even if Anthony Giovanni was up there right in front of her, kissing the love of her life, it wasn't a real kiss. It was just pretend. But in the back of her mind, she still wondered if there was any truth to the co-star romance rumors.

When it was time for the curtain call, the cast came out and bowed to their standing ovation. Flowers were handed to Anthony and Rachel, then they all filed offstage and the audience began to shuffle out of the theatre. Quinn stayed in her seat until the crowd had almost entirely dispersed. _What do I say to her? What if she doesn't even remember me? _Quinn allowed herself to sit for a few more minutes and devise a careful plan of attack.

After several minutes, she still had no idea what to do, so she decided just to improvise. Knowing Rachel, she would probably have enough to say for the both of them anyway. Quinn walked across the theatre to a door by which stood a security guard. She flashed him her pass and he nodded and held the door open for her. She was practically shaking with anticipation as she climbed a narrow staircase leading to a hallway behind the stage. Crew members were walking around excitedly, and actors, some still half in costume, congratulating each other loudly. Quinn remembered this kind of excitement from high school. It was the same feeling the New Directions had after having nailed a performance. It was definitely a good feeling. Smiling at the excited actors and even stopping to commend some of them for their performances, Quinn walked down the hall. She saw a washroom and decided she should probably look in the mirror and make sure her make up was still cooperating, and that her hair was still in place. She wanted to look her best for Rachel. She turned the handle and walked inside.

* * *

The washroom was only lit by two antique oil lamps on either side of a large mirror. They provided a dim, faded glow. Quinn walked over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. As she was adjusting a bobby pin in her hair, she heard a toilet flush. She had thought she was alone in the room, but she now noticed there was one stall door closed among the three. She heard the sounds of high heels shuffling a few steps across the floor, and the door opened, slamming against the wall with a bang that made Quinn jump. Rachel walked out of the stall, smoothing out the bottom of her dress.

"I cannot _believe _they don't even have private washrooms for the talent in this theatre. I'll have to have a word with my producers. But I suppose if I come down with something from sitting on a disgusting public toilet, it's their funeral, not mine. They can't have a show without their star." Rachel said all of this without looking up at who she was talking to. Quinn froze, and stared wide eyed at Rachel through the mirror. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again, not knowing what to say.

"I mean, I _am_ the star after all. People come to see _me_. I don't care what Anthony sa—" Rachel had looked up and finally saw who was on the other end of her one-sided discussion. Quinn grinned and turned to face the girl she'd been eagerly waiting to speak to, and avoiding, all night.

"Hey." She said. After a moment, Quinn thought about what she'd just said. _Hey? That's it? That's your big line? Unbelievable. _She could feel her cheeks getting hot as she began to blush. She remembered that Rachel had always had that effect on her.

"Quinn..." Rachel breathed, clearly very surprised to see her old friend. She stared up at Quinn, and after a silence that neither of them tried to break for what seemed like a very long time, Rachel suddenly closed the space between them and flung her arms around Quinn's neck in a familiar hug.

"Oh my God! What are you even doing here?" Rachel finally sputtered, her arms still wrapped tightly around Quinn, who was, truthfully, having a hard time keeping herself together. After years of trying to forget how it felt to be in these arms, Quinn had to ask herself why. _Why would I try to forget this?_

"I work for a local newspaper. I'm here to interview you, actually. And to interview Anthony." Quinn said.

"You're a journalist? That's amazing, congratulations!" Rachel exclaimed, jerking her head back to make eye contact with Quinn, keeping her hands on the back of Quinn's neck. The intimacy of the whole gesture made Quinn shudder lightly. Rachel seemed to notice this, and, mistaking Quinn's yearning for aversion, she let go, sliding one hand down along the girl's shoulder. Quinn's breath hitched as she felt Rachel's hand caress her arm, so she spoke quickly in an attempt to mask her nerves.

"Well, sort of," She said. "I'm an intern. This is my first real assignment. My boss said there might be a permanent position for me if I do a good job here. So, I guess I have a lot riding on this."

"Well, you can certainly count on me for whatever you need. I'll make sure Anthony behaves as well. He can be a bit of a brat sometimes," Rachel said. Quinn wondered if she was expressing her genuine dislike for Anthony, or if this was the playful teasing of a girl in love. Rachel motioned to the exit.

"Shall we get a move on? Let's get the business over with, then we can spend more time catching up afterwards," She started to turn away from Quinn, but paused, and turned back to her. Once more, she reached up and pulled Quinn into a warm hug. Quinn laughed lightly and laced her arms under Rachel's.

"I've missed you, Quinn. I think about you often," Rachel said.

"Me too, Rachel," Quinn answered. _Every minute. _She thought.

* * *

Anthony was a total prick. There's really no other way to describe him. _He's almost worse than Finn._ Quinn thought to herself, as she scribbled in her notebook. The three of them had been sitting together for about twenty minutes, and so far, he had been completely insufferable. Any question Quinn asked, he either refused to answer, or answered with a shallow, generic response. At this rate, Quinn thought there was no way she would be getting the job. Although she was confident in her competence as a writer, she needed a bit of substance to work with. Rachel's eyes were apologetic. She sat patiently, throwing exasperated glances at Anthony every once in a while. Eventually, Quinn decided to give up on Anthony altogether. Rachel was much more cooperative, and gave genuine answers about the show, and the different atmosphere here in Paris from her familiar Broadway stage. She spoke about how excited she was to be here, and how much she looked forward to her stay. The interview was going well, at least with Rachel.

"There are some things I would really like to touch on before we wrap up. Of course, I have to ask; are the two of you involved romantically?" Quinn asked, and braced herself internally. _No matter what they say, don't choke._

Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but Anthony quickly cut her off.

"You could say, I suppose, that we are indeed together. We've been seeing each other outside of work. So... Yes. We're in a romantic relationship." Quinn's heart sank. Rachel simply nodded in agreement, her eyes all the while on Anthony.

"Um, wow, that's very interesting," She tried hard to collect her emotions before they showed on her face. "Does your... Relationship... affect your performance in any way?" She couldn't look at Rachel. She was sure that if she did, she wouldn't be able to contain her disappointment.

"I'm not sure I understand where you're going with this question. Are you accusing me of putting romance before my career?" Anthony asked, clearly offended.

"Oh.. No, what I meant to say is... Do you think your offstage relationship lends, uh... Credibility to the romance of your characters, or um... Otherwise?" Quinn stammered her response. No matter how much she hated the man at this moment, and would love for him to storm off and finish the interview, she needed him there for the sake of her job. So for now, she had to try her best to be nice. Luckily, Anthony seemed to calm down at Quinn's rewording of the question.

"Well, if I'm answering honestly, Miss... Whatever your name is..."

"Fabray. Her name is Quinn Fabray," Interrupted Rachel impatiently.

"Right, whatever. Look, all I'm going to say is, you saw my performance tonight. I think it's pretty obvious that regardless of my personal life, I got the part here for a reason. Sleeping with my costar is simply a personal indulgence, and it has nothing to do with the excellence of my performance. That was all me, Gwen. All. Me." Rachel started to speak, but Anthony promptly interrupted her.

"Anyway. I think you have all you can possibly need from me. I'm exhausted, so I think we should wrap it up now. It's been a pleasure." He stood, and with a quick nod to Quinn, he turned to Rachel and bent down to her level. He whispered something in her ear, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and left. Quinn didn't even have time to process what was happening before he was gone. _Shit. What do I do now? I'm going to have nothing to write about._Then, all too quickly, Quinn registered in her mind that she was once again alone with Rachel. The two sat in silence for a moment while Quinn wondered what to do next. She didn't want to know any more about Rachel and Anthony's relationship, but she knew eventually she would have to ask, for the sake of the paper. But for now, she wouldn't have to, because it was Rachel who spoke first.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn. He's really... Uncooperative sometimes. I really hope this won't affect your article."

"Oh, no. Don't worry about that. I'll manage," Quinn said, and abruptly, she had an idea. "Rachel, do you have plans tonight? If not, maybe you'd like to continue the interview somewhere less... Formal? I know a few cafés in the area that are open late. We'll finish the interview, and have time to catch up afterward." She braced herself for rejection, and imagined the possible responses Rachel could give. _No thank you, I'm going to the after party for the cast. _Or, _No, I'm tired, and I'd really rather not._ Or, _No thanks, I plan to go home and have wild, celebratory sex with Anthony. _The last one made her wince. She looked up at Rachel, and saw that she was smiling excitedly.

"I'll call us a cab," Was all that she said.


	6. Chapter 5

~Author's Note: Thank you all for your reviews, I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can!~

**Chapter 5**

The two girls spent most of their taxi ride in silence. Rachel only ever spoke to comment on how beautiful Paris was at night. She kept her eyes fixed outside of the car, taking in the grandeur of her surroundings. Quinn kept her eyes fixed on Rachel. She had grown even more beautiful in their years apart. Quinn noticed that she still kept her hair the same; long and straight, with bangs cut straight across her forehead. It always suited her perfectly. Quinn herself had tried many different hairstyles since leaving Lima. She tried to reinvent herself in many ways, and eventually, after many asymmetrical hairstyles and pixie cuts, she gave up. Presently, she focused on practicality. When she wore her hair down, it rested just above her shoulders. Just long enough to be tied back in an up do, but short enough that it didn't remind her of her early teenage years. Those were the dark days, in Quinn's mind. She didn't like to be reminded of the person she was at the age of 16; selfish, manipulative, and ruthless. It took hitting rock bottom to turn herself around, and she was only able to do this after she realized what she had to lose. Rachel. She couldn't risk losing the one person who ever really gave her a chance, despite how awful Quinn had been to her. But that was ages ago. Now they were sitting together in the back seat of a taxi, passing through the beautiful streets of Paris at night. There were many cafes open late in Paris, but Rachel had said that she was very hungry after her performance, and Quinn only knew of one restaurant nearby that offered vegan options on their menu. It was the same restaurant she'd been to with Émile the other day, when he'd announced he was leaving for London and she'd announced her big assignment.

When they pulled up in front of their destination, Quinn paid the driver, and thanked him in french. Rachel smiled at the sound of Quinn's not-so-perfect french accent, then she got out of the car. She waited politely for Quinn to get out on the other side. Once Quinn reached the sidewalk, Rachel reached her hand out and smiled. She slipped her hand under Quinn's elbow, taking her by the arm, and prompting her to lead the way.

Upon entering the restaurant, Quinn found that she was once again growing nervous. _This is a date, s_he thought. Whether or not Rachel had any romantic interest in Quinn, this was a date. They were out together, asking for a table for two, planning to order coffee to talk over (or something stronger, if it so suited them), and Quinn had every intention of paying the bill in full at the end of the night. Quinn wondered if Rachel was thinking anything similar. Probably not.

The hostess lead them to a table by a window and left them with their menus. She said that their server would be with them soon to take their order. Flipping through her menu, Rachel smiled excitedly.

"Quinn, this place is simply delightful. Look! Their menu even has a vegan section!" Quinn smiled. Rachel hadn't changed at all. She was a ball of energy, and excitable like a child, but still sophisticated and polite. She was sweet and saw the importance of manners, as she'd made very clear during the interview with Anthony. Most of all, she was still blissfully oblivious to all of the effort Quinn made for her.

"Good evening, ladies," said their waitress. Quinn looked up and immediately felt herself choke. It was Mélanie, the same waitress from the other day who had slipped Quinn her phone number. _Oh God, _Quinn thought. Mélanie was staring at her, with a look on her face that was hard to read. It was obvious that she recognized her, and now Quinn was sure that her own face gave away the same thing. She didn't know what to say, whether to acknowledge the familiarity or to just pretend they were complete strangers. Thankfully, Mélanie spoke next.

"Mon Dieu, aren't you popular... Can I ask, is this a date?" She spoke in a cheerful tone, with poorly disguised sarcasm, and she almost spat the last word. Quinn suddenly realized how this must look. Out on a date with her boyfriend one night, then taking a different person to the same restaurant, all within a few days. In Mélanie's mind, Quinn was now a player. Quinn couldn't tell if this made her more, or less attractive to her. Either way, she didn't care. She was waiting for Rachel to answer Mélanie's question.

"Oh, no no... We're old friends, just... Catching up," Rachel said eventually. Quinn looked down at her menu. She wasn't sure why she felt disappointed, she knew Rachel would say something along those lines. She decided not to let this phase her, and to keep the rest of her fake date going smoothly regardless. Mélanie took their drink orders and finally left them alone.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, until it became uncomfortable. Quinn finally spoke.

"So, you made it to Broadway. Congratulations, Rachel." It was boring small talk, but she didn't know what else to say. _Only strangers talk about their careers_, she thought to herself.

"Yes, I certainly did. My dads are very excited for me. They've even come to every show so far... Except for here in Paris, of course." Rachel had always been good at small talk. It was a natural gift. There was a question that was pressing Quinn's mind more than anything. Even though Anthony had already confirmed it, she wanted to know if his relationship with Rachel was real. If she was going to accept it, she was going to have to hear it from Rachel herself. She decided she would ease into the question so as to not give away her motives.

"So, I'm curious... What happened between you and Finn? Last I heard from either of you, you were happily engaged." She said, trying not to seem too eager to hear about their break up. She'd always hated Finn. Mostly because he got the girl, and she didn't. At least, she thought he did. Rachel rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Quinn, you and I both know that was never going to work. We were children! I cannot believe I ever agreed to _marry_ him. Can you imagine, being chained to that boy for the rest of my life? Anyway, I might have actually gone through with it, if he didn't call it off. He claimed my heart was elsewhere... And if I'm being honest, it was." Quinn's heart stopped. She had to wonder if she'd even heard correctly. Rachel's heart was _elsewhere_. As in. Belonging to someone _other than Finn. _She waited on baited breath for Rachel to keep talking, but she seemed to have stopped, and was waiting for a response.

"I'm not sure I follow." Quinn choked out.

"Of course it was! It was insane of me to even think that my love for such an immature, senseless _boy_ was even comparable to my _true_ love of the arts." Rachel said. _Of course._Quinn thought. She couldn't help but smile.

"Anyway, after he called off the wedding, I stayed in New York, and Finn went back to Lima. I haven't heard from him in years, but I assume he's still the same old Finn."

The waitress came back with their drinks, and placed them on the table without saying a word. When she left, Quinn noticed that her glass was only half full, whereas Rachel's was poured almost to the brim. _Yep, she's definitely not pleased with me, _she thought. _She's probably upset that I never called __her. _Rachel seemed to notice as well.

"Oh, goodness, she must have made a mistake. Your drink is nearly empty! Miss! Excuse me!" She called out to Mélanie, who stopped in her tracks halfway across the restaurant. Quinn sighed. She would have rather taken the half-poured drink than call the woman back to their table. But, Mélanie turned around.

"Is there a problem, Miss?" She asked Rachel. She seemed irritable to say the least.

"Yes, I hate to inconvenience you, but I believe you've given my friend Quinn here only half a drink in error." Rachel motioned her hand to the drink in question, which Mélanie snatched up quickly.

"So sorry, ladies. I'll send it back right away." She snapped, and turned on her heel. Once she was safely in the back of the restaurant, Rachel turned to Quinn.

"She's very rude to you. Do you know her?" She asked. Quinn took a deep breath. She decided just to tell her what had happened the other night. It didn't necessarily mean she had to _come out_to Rachel right now, but she resolved that if she asked about her sexual preference, she wouldn't lie.

"No. Well, not really. She slipped me her phone number when I was here the other night, and I haven't called her. I guess it hurt her pride a little to see me here with you tonight. That's probably why she asked you if we were on a date," Quinn said. Rachel's eyes widened, and she looked in the direction that Mélanie went, and then back to Quinn, who braced herself for Rachel's response.

"You _didn't _call her? Why not? She's stunning!" She exclaimed, a little too loudly.

"I... What?" Quinn asked, confused. Rachel backtracked, and spoke a little quieter.

"Unless you're already with someone... But if you aren't, I can't believe you didn't call her..." Quinn couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was Rachel insinuating that she already _knew _about Quinn?

"Um... She's not my type," Quinn answered. This was true at least, but in all fairness, Quinn had a very specific type; Rachel.

* * *

After their meal was long finished, and many drinks were had, Mélanie approached their table to let them know that the restaurant was finally closing for the night. They were both a little tipsy, and when Quinn paid the bill, she left a generous tip. Rachel pulled out a pen, and scribbled a note for Mélanie on the bottom of the bill, on Quinn's behalf.

" 'I'm sorry, I'll call you'? Rachel, you know I won't..." Quinn whispered, and they both laughed.

The two girls wandered in the street, and stood on the corner for a minute. Quinn was feeling a little anxious, knowing that their fake date would be coming to an end very shortly. She wondered if she would be seeing Rachel again after tonight. Rachel was looking up to the clouds above, it was overcast, and you could just barely make out a few stars here and there. Quinn decided to join her, and the two girls stood staring up into the air for several minutes. _We must look crazy, _she thought. _Or drunk. _The last one was more accurate. After a long silence, Rachel spoke.

"So... Where to now?" She smiled, and looked at Quinn. There was a look on her face that Quinn remembered well. Trusting, but also playful. She wasn't sure if it was Rachel's question that gave her the guts she needed, or if the liquid courage in her system made her that much more brave, but what she said next surprised even herself.

"How about... My place?" She said, fixing her eyes at the sky. She didn't think she could look Rachel in the eye without turning bright red. Rachel gasped.

"Quinn Fabray... If I didn't know you better I'd think you were propositioning me," she joked. Quinn gulped. _You have _no _idea._

"Lead the way," Rachel said, and took Quinn by the arm.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It wasn't too far from the restaurant to Quinn's apartment, so the girls agreed they would walk the distance instead of calling for another taxi. Still buzzed from their drinks, they walked in silence, breathing the night air and watching as they passed locals who were out enjoying the night. Neither of them said a word, but this time the silence wasn't uncomfortable, they were simply enjoying each other's company. Occasionally, Quinn noticed Rachel's hand brush against her own as they walked. She had once read in a magazine that a girl does this on purpose if she wishes to hold your hand. Though Quinn very much doubted that was the case, even still, every time she felt the soft skin of Rachel's hand touch her own, she shuddered slightly.

Soon they arrived at Quinn's home, and Rachel waited as Quinn opened the gate for her to pass through. The building was fronted by a little courtyard. A wide brick path lead to the front door of the building, and the rest of the yard was a small garden. On a bench sat a couple of Quinn's neighbours, cigarettes and cups of wine in hand. They greeted the girls as they passed. It was late, but it was not uncommon for them to be out like this at night.

The two girls made their way up the stairs to Quinn's floor, where she fumbled with her keys to unlock the door. Rachel laughed at Quinn's struggling fingers, and eventually the two of them went inside. Quinn took Rachel's coat and hung it up in the hall. Then, she lead Rachel to the living room, where they both sat on the couch.

"This is a lovely apartment, Quinn. It's quite big," Rachel said, looking around.

"Thanks. I think it's a bit small sometimes for two p-" Quinn stopped in her tracks. _Shit. Why did I have to go and say that? _Rachel looked at her, confused.

"You don't live alone?" She asked. Quinn closed her eyes. _I'm such an idiot. I guess I'll have to tell her, now, _She thought to herself.

"Um. No. I live here with Émile. He's my..." Rachel's eyes sank to the floor. She looked embarrassed, for some reason.

"He's my roommate," Quinn said. _Wow, so now you're lying to her. That's just great, Quinn. _

"Oh, wow, is he nice? Why isn't he home?" Rachel asked. Quinn was still kicking herself for the lie she just told.

"He's um, well, he's away on business. In London, actually. For two weeks. So I have the place to myself," Quinn said, and stood up, changing the subject. "How about a drink? We have some wine in the fridge, or I could mix something up if you feel like a cocktail."

"I'll drink whatever you're having," Rachel replied, smiling up at Quinn, who turned away and walked into the kitchen. She felt ashamed that she was hiding Émile from Rachel, but she was afraid that the small chance she had with her would be lessened even more if she knew. Besides, if anything _did _happen between the two of them, Émile certainly wouldn't remain her boyfriend for very long.

Quinn returned to the living room with two glasses filled with a strong concoction she'd mixed in the kitchen. Rachel sipped hers eagerly, and almost spat it back out once she tasted it.

"Quinn, this is awfully strong..." She said, laughing as she looked at the glass. Quinn smiled.

"You said you wanted whatever I was having. I guess it's a shame if you can't keep up," she teased. Rachel looked at her and pursed her lips.

"Quinn Fabray, you know I can never back down to a challenge," She said, and lifted the glass to her lips. In one swift move, she gulped back the rest of the liquor and slammed the glass on the coffee table. She winced and gagged, and made a noise of disgust. Once the taste had passed, she looked up at Quinn, who was staring at her, wide eyed, mouth open in awe.

"Rachel, that was straight whiskey. It's _really _strong..." She said, and looked down at her own glass. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Drunk," Rachel replied, and leaned back into the couch cushions. She giggled at herself and looked at Quinn.

Quinn watched Rachel and smiled at how adorable she was. _Fuck it, _She thought, and downed her own drink in similar fashion. Rachel laughed excitedly and clapped her hands.

* * *

The girls spent the rest of the night drinking, and reminiscing about their past together. They also talked about their present lives, and all that they'd missed in their time apart. Eventually, Rachel's cell phone rang.

"Oh shit... It's Anthony," She said. Quinn looked away. Now that she was drunk, her jealousy might be a little harder to hide. But, Rachel simply pressed a button and ignored the call. The two of them sat in silence for a long time before either of them spoke again. Quinn stared down at her lap, and played with the ice cubes in her empty glass. _She's probably trying to think of a way to tell me she has to leave, _she thought. _She has to get back to her boyfriend. _She felt angry that Anthony, the jerk that he was, got to call Rachel his own and she didn't. It didn't seem fair.

"It's not real, you know," Rachel said, her words slurred from the alcohol.

"What isn't?" Quinn asked in response.

"My... relationship. With Anthony. It's all fake," Rachel said. "He thought it would be good for the play. I... I haven't slept with him." As she spoke the last sentence, she started to edge closer to Quinn. Eventually, she pulled herself up, and rested her head on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn didn't know what to say. She was relieved that Rachel wasn't involved with Anthony, that was for sure. Right now, her heart was hammering in her chest because of her physical proximity to Rachel.

"I don't even _like _him," Rachel continued. "I don't even like..." her sentence trailed off and she turned her face to look up at Quinn. Quinn also tilted her head to look Rachel in the eye. Their noses were almost touching, they were so close. Quinn's heart was racing, and she was having trouble keeping her breath steady. She could smell the chapstick on Rachel's lips, and the alcohol on her breath. She closed her eyes, and let the moment wash over her. When she opened them again, Rachel had grabbed a throw pillow and placed it in Quinn's lap. Clumsily, she let her head fall onto the pillow, and reached her hand up to pat Quinn lightly on the cheek.

"You're awesome," Rachel said. Quinn snickered. She had definitely grown much bolder with the alcohol in her system.

"You know, awesome is the least descriptive word in the english language. It doesn't really mean anything," She said, looking down at Rachel's face in her lap.

"Fine," Rachel replied defiantly, and sat up straight. "You're sweet, and you're thoughtful, and you're great company. You have a very pretty face, and you're... unbelievably _sexy_!" Rachel spat the last two words and whipped her head around to look Quinn right in the eye. Quinn's breath hitched as she took in what Rachel had just said to her. She felt flattered, but she also felt a bit angry that she was being lead on. No matter how much hope she had, she knew that Rachel didn't want her like that. She was straight, and she was currently giving Quinn false hope. She didn't want it.

"Why did you say that?" Quinn asked, it was easy to hear in her voice that she had taken offence. Rachel looked surprised at this.

"I was just... being honest," she answered, more careful this time. "To be honest, I expected a more joyful reaction... Unless I'm so utterly repulsive that the idea of me finding you sexy _offends _you. In that case, I'm sorry."

"What? No, Rachel. I don't find you _repulsive_, don't be ridiculous. You just... You can't say things like that to me, alright?"

"Why not?" Rachel looked at her with wide eyes. Quinn was getting exasperated.

"Because you're _straight_, Rachel! I can't take... being lead on like that. Not by you. Okay?" Quinn said, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands in her lap. She saw Rachel move closer to her on the couch out of the corner of her eye, and then she felt Rachel's hand rest on her shoulder. Quinn looked up and made eye contact with her. Once again, the two of them were very close. Quinn felt a chill roll down her spine as Rachel's hand moved up from her shoulder and rested at the back of her neck. Rachel placed her free hand on Quinn's leg, and gently pulled Quinn's head down to her own level.

"What are you do-" Quinn whispered, but trailed off at the end of her sentence. Rachel opened her mouth slightly, and took a quick breath in. Then, she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to Quinn's. Quinn stayed motionless, her heart pounding in her ribcage. She couldn't believe what was happening to her. Rachel's lips were soft, and felt good against her own. This was the kiss she'd been waiting for, and after all this time, she has to think to herself that it was well worth the wait.

After about a minute, Rachel broke the kiss, but kept her face close to Quinn's. The two girls stared at each other in silence. Quinn was shaking.

"I know why you asked me to come here," Rachel said softly. "And now you know why I came." This was the only prompt Quinn needed. This time, she kissed Rachel, finally letting all of her feelings control her. She let her hands caress Rachel's skin as she leaned further into the kiss. Her hand moved up to support the back of Rachel's head as it lowered to the meet couch. Her lips pressed hard against Rachel's, and eventually wandered further, across her jawline and to her neck. She could feel Rachel's pulse on her kisses, and her heart was beating almost as fast as her own. She couldn't help but smile to herself. She'd spent the whole night thinking about how oblivious Rachel was to her feelings for her, when really she'd been the one who was clueless. Quinn brought her face back up to meet Rachel's and kissed her lips once more. For the first time in a long time, with her lips pressed against Rachel's, she felt like she was home.


End file.
